`I couldn't believe that there was a possibility of losing another baby'

I was 29 when I became pregnant for the first time, which was six months after John and I got married. I had a healthy pregnancy apart from back pain linked to an earlier injury. Our first child, Sean, was born full-term in December 1993.

Due to continuing problems with my back, I was advised not to become pregnant for two years. Eventually, December 1995 arrived. I was given the all-clear by my physiotherapist to become pregnant and I did so almost immediately. However, I began to bleed at seven weeks. I had a scan, and my doctor told my husband and I that we had lost the baby. This was January 20th 1996. I was kept in hospital overnight for a D&C.

I felt completely shocked. Miscarriage was something that happened to other people, not to me. At my six-week check-up at the miscarriage clinic (a special clinic in maternity hospitals dedicated to those who have had miscarriages), the doctor told us that we could wait or try again immediately to become pregnant.

Before we went to the miscarriage clinic, I had thought the doctor would explain why I had miscarried. But really, they don't have any answers, and they don't encourage tests unless you have three miscarriages in a row. Anyway, I felt that all I wanted was to become pregnant again. And, in fact, I did become pregnant again almost immediately.

By April 1996, I was nine weeks pregnant. John and I were delighted. I was feeling fine and was sure we would have no problems this time round. However, this pregnancy was not to last. We lost another baby on April 16, 1996, and I had to go into hospital for another D&C.

Around this time, I began to wonder if I would ever carry another baby. I remember going to a pram shop with Sean, now two-and-a-half, and looking longingly at double buggies. My goal was to have two children in a double buggy.

We attended the miscarriage clinic for my six-week check-up, and a lovely, sympathetic French doctor told us he was very sorry to hear our news. This meant so much to us. And when we asked when we could try again to become pregnant, he suggested we wait a few months. "It's not only the body but the mind as well which needs to recover from losing a baby. Give yourselves time," he said. He reassured us, too, that because I had carried a baby to full term once already meant that the likelihood of doing so again was high.

I took another week off work and tried to get back to normal. I also tried not to focus on the three-month period we were advised to wait before I could become pregnant again.

In May, 1996, I contacted the Miscarriage Association, and John and I went along to a meeting. It was great to meet other people who had lost babies and who were going through the same emotions of hope and fear that we were. John also made a couple of comments at the meeting which made me realise that he was hurting deeply too.

I had been so caught up in trying to get on with things that I hadn't thought how much he had lost out too. People often ask men how their wives are getting over a miscarriage but they rarely ask them how they are coping themselves.

Once the three-month period was up, I again became pregnant almost immediately. Everything was fine until at seven weeks, I got a bad pain in my side. A scan showed an ovarian cyst. The doctor explained that this was like a balloon which would probably deflate naturally and cause no problem. However, three weeks later I got a slight twinge which within an hour had me doubled over in pain. The cyst had ruptured and it had to be removed immediately under anaesthetic. I know now that there was a possibility of losing one or both ovaries and our baby. But thankfully, I woke up from the operation to be told that the cyst had been removed and I had held onto the baby.

I spent a week in hospital, and while there asked a doctor what the chances were of holding onto this baby to full-term. She said: "Mrs Lynch, there are no guarantees." This jolted me completely as I had felt sure that if the baby survived an operation under anaesthetic, we'd be fine. I couldn't believe that there was a possibility of losing another baby.

On April 19, 1997, Conor was born. A second beautiful, precious boy . Comments like, "you'll have to try for a girl next" really hurt. Had people no idea what we had gone through to have two healthy boys? Conor's birth announcement ended with "remembering our baby angels in heaven - never forgotten."

I breastfed Conor and he fed well until he refused the breast one day when I began to bleed. I continued to bleed on and off for three days. I did a pregnancy test which was positive. And I went into hospital to have an early scan to determine how long I was pregnant. On being told that I was almost six weeks pregnant, I was shocked but obviously delighted at the same time.

I was asked to return the following week for a second scan to get a clear picture of when my baby would be due. This second scan showed a blighted ovum, which meant the baby had stopped developing. This was February 11, 1998 and the following day I was brought in for a D&C.

Although this pregnancy hadn't been planned, the hurt and grief of losing our baby was no less than before. I actually found it very difficult to "bounce back" the way everyone seemed to expect me to. I felt they were all saying, "she's been through it before, she should know what happens. I did appreciate the children we had but I wondered were they the only two we were going to have. Soon after this and for the first time in my life, my periods became erratic - 10 days early, 10 days late, a week early, and a day late. I suddenly felt that I had no control over my body and I couldn't even plan another pregnancy. The urgency to become pregnant again was all I could think of. The support of the Miscarriage Association was so valuable during this time.

In August 1998, I became pregnant again and in the beginning, I was quietly confident. However a scan at seven weeks showed a cyst which was worrying. It disappeared and all was well until week 17 when I got bad crampy pains. A check-up in the hospital showed everything to be fine. The fear of losing this baby never left me and I was counting the weeks until the baby could survive outside the womb if born prematurely. Our third son, Liam was born on 24 May, 1999. My miscarriages were all early - six, seven and nine weeks - but from the moment you think you are pregnant, they are babies. I know we are lucky to have three boys but the memory of our lost babies is very real too.

I remember feeling envious at one stage because a family member who had a miscarriage at 16 weeks had a burial for her baby. We never had the chance to bury our babies and we have no grave to visit. Now, we have the dates on which we lost our babies engraved on a paperweight. It is a beautiful reminder of our little angels - now in heaven. They will never be forgotten.

In conversation with Sylvia Thompson

The Miscarriage Association can be contacted on tel: 01-8735702/8725550